


Strangers from other Towns

by Alexfoster451



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/F, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexfoster451/pseuds/Alexfoster451
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl walks into a bar, an agent of Pinehearst, and Gretchen Berg has never met her before. Not in this universe anyway. AU fic set in the Exposed Future storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers from other Towns

Title: Strangers from other Towns

Author: Alex Foster

Category: Romance

Pairing: Claire/Gretchen

Word Count: 3,236

Rating: NC-17 for sexuality.

Summary: A girl walks into a bar, an agent of Pinehearst, and Gretchen Berg has never met her before. Not in this universe anyway. AU fic set in the Exposed Future storyline.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by NBC. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author’s Notes: My writer's block continues but I decided to pull this little thing out of the drawer and poke around at it. Hope you enjoy reading....

  


…  
…  
 _She's quiet when she’s down  
Strangers from other towns  
Nowhere to be found  
On this side of the scene_

 _Would you like a cigarette,  
Or my hand upon your shoulder?  
I think we might have met  
Would you like me to come over?_  
\-- Scissor Sisters  
…  
…

Later Gretchen would remember her standing by the window, sheet wrapped weakly around her small frame, and lit by the glow of the nation’s capital. Gretchen held herself still and fought the urge to snuggle deeper into the blankets. She blinked sleepily but didn’t move, wanting to just watch her nighttime companion.

She had a feeling that seeing Claire Bennet, Pinehearst’s agent, in such a relaxed moment was not common.

The dark haired woman seemed to sense Gretchen’s gaze however and immediately tensed. She kept her back to the bed, but Gretchen saw even in the dim predawn light the tightening of muscles along her bare shoulders.

Gretchen extended a hand, giving up the act of feigning sleep, and said, “Come back to bed.”

  
…  
…

  
The night before all she was looking for was a drink. Her favorite tavern was mostly empty—news of the attack on Costa Verde and President Petrelli keeping people home and off the streets. Gretchen sat alone at the bar and read the closed captioning across the muted tv’s CNN report.

The news was horrible but she couldn’t look away. Her opinion of specials and the open market of powers for those that could afford it wasn’t as clear cut any longer. Once, when she first came to Washington, she thought Pinehearst was wrong in their tight enforcement of people with abilities. Nathan Petrelli made a good show of helping those with uncontrolled powers and gave uplifting speeches about keeping the country safe while surrounded by Pinehearst agents.

Gretchen hadn’t voted for him though. She had heard the stories about camps and even experiments on some of the more horrendous abilities. Becoming less than human to try and save humanity was not the answer.

Now, however, she just didn’t know what the solution was to people with powers or those that wanted abilities. Costa Verde was a flooded crater and President Petrelli would never again make a speech. It was confusing and sad and she just wanted the world to go back to how it was a few years ago.

She was about to admit maybe a drink was a bad idea when the smaller woman slid onto a stool next to her. Dressed in a black and gray designer suit, she had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Dim overhead house lights played over dyed brown hair and cast shadows down her unsmiling face.

Signaling the bartender the mysterious woman ordered three straight up shots. She left a twenty on the bartop and didn’t ask for change.

Gretchen realized somewhat late that she was staring. She worked moisture back into her mouth and glanced away. The woman had noticed though and Gretchen felt her full gaze level in her direction. They were the same age but she was suddenly back in college again. She felt too tall and gangly under such an intense stare.

Normally she liked the butterfly sensation in her stomach when she caught the attention of a pretty girl or attractive guy, but there was something predatory in that focus.

Gretchen looked back and mustered up a smile. “Maybe you should take it slow?” she said, gesturing to the shots.

The young lady didn’t return the smile but did soften her eyes slightly. “I have a very good constitution.”

“Lucky you. I’m Gretchen.” She held out a hand.

Now the woman did smile, minutely and seemingly at a private joke. “Claire Bennet.” She didn’t take the proffered hand. The first shot went down with a small grimace.

Gretchen leaned back and thought about leaving. She probably should—Claire didn’t really seem like the friendly type—but something she couldn’t quite identify kept her at the bar. Claire might not be friendly but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use a friend.

“So did you have a bad day?”

Claire paused for just a moment before throwing back the second shot. “You could say I don’t have many good ones.”

“Yeah.” Gretchen forced herself forward again. “It’s a crazy world out there. With abilities and—”

That intense stare returned instantly and Gretchen saw for the first time the metallic glint of a pin on Claire’s dark blazer. The design was instantly recognizable and the pieces clicked together in her mind.

Pinehearst.

“—Oh,” Gretchen lamely finished. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean anything by that.” She grabbed her purse and stood. “I’m sure you don’t need me bothering you.”

“The last two members of my family died yesterday. I’m all alone now.”

Gretchen stopped, stunned at the sudden confession. Claire looked surprised too. She shifted uncomfortably and turned back to her drink.

Gretchen sat back down. “I’m sure you aren’t alone.”

The agent looked at her and this time didn’t layer it with any intimidation. “I appreciate you not saying that you’re sorry. It really doesn’t help.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Claire twisted the last shot glass on its little napkin but didn’t drink. “This was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking; these won't even work anyway.”

“Bars are social places,” Gretchen offered, trying to keep _her_ from leaving now. “Maybe you just needed to connect with someone?”

“Is that what you come for?”

“Sometimes.”

Claire made a noncommittal noise and gestured to the empty room. “Not a lot of connecting happening tonight.”

She shrugged. “People are scared. With what happened out west and Petrelli being assassinated.”

A muscle twitched in Claire’s cheek but her expression remained neutral. If Gretchen hadn’t been watching her so closely she would have missed it. She fought back the sudden urge to ask her about what happened—a Pinehearst agent, especially one in DC, would certainly know more than what CNN reported.

Gretchen didn’t ask though because she had the impression the last thing Claire wanted tonight was to be an agent of Pinehearst.

“Aren’t you scared?”

She glanced at the muted tv for a moment before returning her gaze to Claire. “I think there are better things to feel than fear.”

Claire swallowed the last shot. “I used to have a teammate that would disagree with you.”

“What about you?”

“Once,” Claire began, “I thought it was important to feel everything. I thought it kept me human. Now I can’t seem to feel anything. Not even fear.”

“I think that is a lie,” Gretchen said. “Or, at the least, an excuse.”

Claire watched carefully and motioned for her to continue.

Some of her resolve faltered under the unblinking green-eyed gaze, but she pressed onward. “Well, just look at the world. The terrorists and government both want us to be afraid—to lose sight of the fact fear distances and blinds us, not unites. Maybe if we weren't so scared all the time we could start acting like human beings again instead of both sides hunting each other down.”

A smile lit the agent’s face and Gretchen caught a glimpse of the youth hiding deep inside. “A debater in school, no doubt, and an activist now?”

“Something like that.” Gretchen waved for the bartender. “Ready for another? My treat.”

“No, I’ve had enough.” The gaze shifted back to high intensity for just a second before she added, “Let’s get out of here.”

Gretchen pretended to think it over. “Okay.”

  
…  
…

  
They separated just before the old man stepped into the elevator with them. Gretchen surreptitiously wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Like her outward persona, Claire kissed sure of herself and just a little pushy. She wasn’t sure yet if Claire was in the closet, out, or enjoyed both girls and boys. Gretchen could understand that; she never cared much for labels. Still though she decided to err on the side of discretion for the sake of Claire's government position.

The lingering aftertaste of Claire’s toothpaste layering over alcohol tickled Gretchen’s tongue.

The elevator moved with agonizing slowness and the elderly man didn’t look up from his evening edition newspaper to notice her rubbing her legs together futilely. A thin sheen of sweat dotted her brow and she felt smothered by her clothes.

A ding sounded and both doors slid smoothly aside. Without waiting for her to follow, Claire stepped around their fellow passenger and out into the empty hall. Gretchen gave him a slightly guilty smile and followed.

The doors had barely shut before Claire was on her again. Gretchen took half a step back and felt the elevator’s cold metal frame through her shirt. The smaller woman stood on her toes and tangled a hand in Gretchen’s hair, pulling her down and deepening their kiss.

She forgot where she was for a moment. There was something almost familiar about being here with Claire, doing this. Déjà vu flooded her and made her think of…she couldn’t quite reach it. But then Claire was sucking along her bottom lip and pulling back just enough to encourage her to follow and that sense became less important.

Gretchen pushed away from the wall, letting herself be drawn forward. “Apartment?” she managed to get out.

The other woman made a noise of agreement and led her down the hall. She didn’t bother fishing for a key; just opened the already unlocked door and showed her inside. Gretchen thought back to Claire saying she feared nothing.

Inside was dark and unlived in. A sofa and two chairs faced each other in the living room, but their pillows were a little too crisp and neat to have ever seen much use. A large kitchen opened to the main room but the counters were spotless, glasses tidily hung, and the sink empty. Not even a single magnet graced the fridge. She looked for pictures of friends or family and found none. No pictures of any sort actually—not even artwork.

The apartment was huge and offered an impressive view of the capital building. Gretchen thought she could work for a year and probably not make enough to afford this place for a month. Claire kept the lights off and let the glow of the city provide most of the illumination. She shut the door (still not bothering with a lock) and stepped in close. Her fingers played with the buttons of Gretchen’s shirt, but she did not move to kiss her again. Gretchen thought the agent looked small and lonely.

“I don’t normally do this,” Gretchen said. “Come home with strangers, that is.”

A half smile flashed again. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Claire started walking her backward. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been home with people before, lots of times, just not—”

“With a stranger?” Claire offered.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t need me to say something corny like ‘let’s get to know each other better’, do you?”

“Please God, no.”

The bedroom was equally spartan with a bed filling most of the space and nothing personal in sight. With such a large bed and nothing else Gretchen had a sudden amusing mental image of Claire bringing home a parade of men and women. Maybe this was just a lavish place she kept for one night stands?

Then she remembered the forlornness in Claire’s eyes and the idea didn’t seem so funny any longer. The apartment looked the way it did for more basic and less romantic reasons. Eager to push those thoughts away, she shoved Claire’s jacket off her shoulders and let it fall. The Pinehearst pin hit the hardwood floor with a click.

Gretchen’s fingers spidered over Claire’s narrow shoulders and she massaged gently. The gray silk blouse bunched underneath her touch. She took a second to notice that the other woman wore no color what so ever. Only an enviable bronze tint to her skin kept the monochrome from washing her out completely.

Muscles, strong and tight, quivered slightly and slowly loosened to Gretchen’s manipulations. She loved this part. The initial rush of sensation and experience. The learning by gasps and groans. Gretchen had had a number of lovers in the past and the beginning stage when things were new and unexplored never got old.

Claire kicked off her shoes and dropped two inches closer to the ground. She gripped Gretchen’s waist and began moving her hips side to side, swaying in matching rhythm. She was graceful with a long hidden smoothness that made Gretchen imagine a younger Claire Bennet in tap or ballet class.

It had been a long time since she danced with someone so she tightened her arms around tense shoulders and followed wherever the agent wanted to take her. Again the familiar sense of having done this with her before hovered just out of reach.

Claire kissed her as a hand slipped over the waistband of her pants and continued past ribs until she brushed the curve of a breast. An approving purr sounded deep in her throat and Gretchen leaned further into the embrace, feeling warmth follow the length of her spine.

The sureness of Claire’s touch took away any remaining doubt that was a first time thing for her. The girl knew what she was doing and an odd sadness sparked in Gretchen. She was saved from the awkward explanation of the basics or weird confusion afterward, but still a distant part of her brain wondered what it would be like to have been Claire’s first.

As though sensing the straying of her thoughts, Claire slid her wet lips from the corner of Gretchen’s mouth to the pulse point on her neck. Another sound came from the smaller woman, low and universal with intent, and Gretchen felt the vibration of it go through her skin.

Claire’s hands were busy kneading and pinching through the fabric of her bra—really if Gretchen had known this evening  was a possibility when she got dressed she would have worn a sexier one. Bunching her fingers in dyed brown hair, she pulled her tighter against her neck. She could smell the citrus of Claire’s shampoo.

The back of Gretchen’s knees touched the bed.

Claire pulled back just long enough to tug Gretchen’s shirt over her head and drop it on the floor. A gray silk blouse soon followed it. She pushed Gretchen down, straddled her lap, and took her face in her hands. That faint minty taste overlaid with alcohol tingled again. Gretchen opened her mouth to deepen the kiss.

Claire was a solid and comfortable weight on her lap. She wiggled her hips slightly and smiled into their kiss when she felt the other woman respond in kind. They discarded the rest of their clothes in a hurried and awkward scramble. Gretchen pulled out the band holding Claire’s ponytail and hair spilled free.

The Pinehearst agent loomed over her, hair falling between them. Gretchen toyed with it, twirling the brown strands around her fingers. She thought Claire would look pretty as a blonde but stopped short of saying so and wasn’t sure why.

“You’re beautiful,” Claire said. Her voice breathy with sex and Gretchen’s stomach flopped pleasantly.

She blushed like a virgin. “You already have me in your bed but still with the sweet talk, huh?”

“Would you rather have dirty talk? I can do that, too.”

Gretchen answered by rolling her over and taking the top position. Strong and lithe muscles flexed against her legs—Claire was more than capable of holding her down, she could feel—but consented with only a squeak of protest. “I don’t need that either,” she said.

Gretchen let a hand roam over Claire’s chest, marveling silently at the lack of blemishes or scars or even birthmarks. She was amazing perfection. She teased a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, rolling it slightly, and gave it a gentle tug. Claire’s breath hitched at that and Gretchen smiled down at her.

Her hand slid lightly over Claire’s smooth belly and finally down. Claire bit her lip and arched into the touch as much as Gretchen’s weight on top of her would allow. Gretchen’s probing fingers found her ready and excited.

She bent and kissed the hollow of her throat. “Eager, aren’t you?” she mumbled into tender skin.

Claire just made another little squeak in reply. Her hands settled on Gretchen’s shoulders but she didn’t move to force her down.

Gretchen decided to press the initiative. She left a trail of wet kisses over Claire’s chest, working ever lower, and enjoyed the way the other woman’s breath started coming out in pants.

Claire’s hands tangled in her hair, insisting gently but clearly what she wanted.

Let it never be said Gretchen wasn’t one to oblige. Her kisses and tongue found what she was looking for and a decidedly pleased sound came from her partner in answer.

She quickly lost herself in the carnal act she was performing and barely noticed the familiarity had returned. The taste of Claire flooded her senses, warm, tangy, and sharp, and made her head spin with need. An idea, no matter how absurd, that they were old lovers wrapped itself around both of them.

Gretchen didn’t have to look up to know Claire was feeling it too. This was a one night stand, a smile and a rub because of shared drinks in a bar, and shouldn’t have any additional weight to it. Something hummed through both of them though, like an echo neither could quite make out.

Slowing the thrusts of her fingers, curving them just so, Gretchen bore down with her mouth and sucked earnestly; she knew what Claire liked when she started to get close. Where that knowledge came from, she did not know, but she was slipping too and didn’t have the clarity of thought to dwell on it.

Claire responded as Gretchen knew she would, gripping the sheets as she moved.

Gretchen felt when it began for Claire, she could taste the zest of it. Muscles tightened against her touch, her legs stiffened and toes curled, and at first the Pinehearst agent was silent. As if even in this moment she couldn’t fully trust herself to let go.

Gretchen closed her eyes and twisted her fingers again—

 _I’m sorry. I just have a little crush_

 _You are my friend_

 _I want to be with you, only you_

 _I want to hold your hand_

—and Claire lost control. She threw her head back and cried out as the convulsions overtook her. With her free hand, Gretchen gripped a hipbone and rode it out with her. The tension and loneliness seemed to flow from her with each forceful shudder. Claire gave several more keens, quieter this time, and was finally silent.

Gretchen pulled back slightly and glanced up the length of her lover. A beautiful sight, she thought.  And one she had seen before.

Once she caught her breath, Claire pulled her up and into a deep kiss. The strange echo of something that couldn’t possibly have happened reverberated one last time between them and faded from their awareness. Gretchen smiled when Claire hooked a leg around hers...

Their subsequent coupling was measured but no less intense. Gone was the feeling of déjà vu and neither woman mentioned it to the other.

  
…  
…

  
Later, when the sky beyond Claire’s massive windows was just starting to brighten, Gretchen slowly came awake. Claire stood staring at the cityscape, a bed sheet loosely covering her body. In her reflection her eyes were again shaded with tightly masked grief. She looked tiny framed against the city.

Sated, Gretchen fought the urge to burrow deeper into the blankets and sleep until the daylight forced her to leave. She didn’t harbor any illusions what this was and knew the Pinehearst agent didn’t either. This wasn’t going to go much further than perhaps breakfast.

So because of that she shook off the urge to sleep and extended a hand. “Come back to bed.”

  
 **End**   
  
****

****

****


End file.
